Did you ever
by mtfrosty
Summary: Always think about it, Anakin. The moment you stop thinking about it is the moment you should start to worry... one-shot


**Enjoy! :)**

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A Sith was not supposed to think these thoughts. Ever.

He was not supposed to feel any guilt, or have any regrets. Those emotions were weak. He was to kill with pride, with a laugh on his lips and a superior sneer following shortly after.

So why didn't he feel that way now?

Why was it, that right before his blade sliced cleanly through the officer's body, his arm halted in brief hesitation? Why did he feel that unfamiliar stab of guilt pierce his stomach? Why wasn't he standing over this body, as he had done with so many others, with a triumphant smile on his masked face, a last taunt escaping from his charred heart?

If his heart was charred, why was it still beating?

He had still killed the man. Swiftly and efficiently, just as his current master had taught him. Disobedience was not tolerated, and insubordination was even less so. This young man had done both, and was not given the luxury of a warning.

_Did you ever stop to wonder what goes through the other man's head?_

The words were running through his head, having shown up at a rather inconvenient time. A time where they would actually have an impact since he was currently focused entirely on the task at hand and not on what had managed to breach his thoughts.

He honestly couldn't say where they had come from. He couldn't remember who said them, only that someone obviously had and he had been within earshot at the time. It aggravated him, to realize that a question that normally should be dismissed as ridiculous was actually being considered in the weakest recesses of his mind.

_Did you ever stop to wonder…?_

No, not once. Well, maybe the first time, but that was when he was still a young, misguided teenager who didn't know any better. Now he was a mature adult with plenty of experience under his belt and a dangerous reputation to uphold. It came naturally, no hesitation involved.

Until now.

There was nothing special about the young officer lying at his feet. The boy hardly looked old enough to drink, let alone carry the blaster he had gone down with. Yes, he supposed he did wonder sometimes… he wondered if the kid even knew where the trigger was.

He laughed bitterly.

It did nothing to hinder the question that was becoming more prominent as the long minutes continued to tick by.

_Did you ever…?_

Now that one was a different question entirely. It was left unfinished, a mystery to be solved. Or unsolved. The possibilities were limitless. Did he ever… what?

He swallowed.

The Force was playing with him. There was no other explanation for all of the pointless thoughts running through his power-hungry brain.

Unfortunately, the Force was one thing he had yet to figure out how to control, and so he could only play along.

Did he ever… finish that starfighter model he had been working on since his tenth birthday? No.

Did he ever… prank Mace Windu? No. He smiled. He had done one better. Mace Windu was dead, the first of many credits to his skill with the blade.

Did he ever…

No, he couldn't save her, or her. Either of them. Both were gone forever.

And no, he hadn't found the man responsible. Not yet. But he would… the murderous traitor couldn't hide forever.

_Did you ever stop…?_

Never considered it. Someone has to deal out justice to this sad excuse for a universe.

A short glance down at the body drills his feet to the floor and sends a chill down his spine. The eyes are open, sightless and without emotion. But they still stare right at him, just like every other man he's killed.

Only this man _is_ special.

The eyes are an odd color: a little blue mixed with a gray as cold as durasteel. They seem haunted, almost tortured by whatever past this man was forced to live. And they're far too old for the man's age.

Just like someone else he used to know.

_Still_ knows.

That traitorous murder…

But is he really?

Yes. He is. There's no one else to blame for the deaths of two women he loved very much. That man killed them.

Great, now his eyes are playing tricks on him. The body at his feet is transforming right in front of him. He knows it's not real, but even so it shakes him to the core. The face is changing, wrinkles feathering out from the eyes, a few days' stubble becoming visible, and the hair changing from dark brown to reddish-brown with a little gray at the temples. Only the eyes don't change.

They are still haunted, still old, and still way too wise for a person that young.

And he is still young. Though older than the young officer he just killed, this new man hasn't even hit forty yet.

The hole where he stabbed the officer with his lightsaber is still clearly visible, and he smiles a little, feeling a sudden rush of satisfaction. It's nice to see this man dead, if only for a moment. And at his hand no less.

_Did you ever stop to wonder what the other man thinks?_

He looks away and the officer appears again, the ginger-haired man fading away, once more dropping into the world of his past. The world he is trying so hard to forget.

He knows that voice. It's eerily familiar, almost _too_ familiar.

He shivers and has to reach out a black-gloved hand to steady himself on the wall.

_Did you ever stop to wonder what the other man thinks… master?_

Yes, that sounded more accurate, but it couldn't be, because that meant that he… it wasn't… he had…?

_A young master in cream-colored garb runs towards his padawan, his ginger hair whipping around in the harsh wind. It howls without pause, ripping through the biting cold with a sorrowful voice. He reaches his padawan's side and swallows. There's a dead man at the boy's feet. The dark eyes are still open and staring, accusing._

"_Padawan?"_

_The boy is silent for a moment longer, standing still, unaware that his face is bright red from the cold, that his lightsaber is still humming gently in his hand, that his knuckles are whiter than the snow on the ground…_

"_Master… I killed him," he whispers. He sounds so young, younger than his fifteen years._

_The master reaches an arm out and wraps it around the boy's lanky frame. He doesn't say anything at first. They both just stand there listening to the wind and watching the snow sift over the body._

_The older Jedi's sigh goes unheard behind the howling gale, but his reply cuts through the noise in a voice as clear as day. "I'm sorry."_

_The first tears slide down the youth's cheeks and he can't stop the quiet sob that follows. His slight frame begins to shake a little and the master pulls him closer._

"_He… he was going to… to kill me, m-master," the boy chokes out between sniffs._

"_Shhhh, Anakin. It's okay. Sometimes we don't have a choice." His voice is comforting, but even so Anakin can't help but disagree. Even at such a young age, he knows that he certainly did have a choice._

_He lets his master hold him until the tears stop falling and the body is almost buried under a drift. "Master, do you ever stop to wonder what the other guy is thinking before you kill him?"_

_Sapphire-blue eyes suddenly look a little gray as they turn to focus on him. "Why do you ask, Anakin?"_

"_Because I think about it, and I don't know if it helps to not think about it."_

_A sad smile crosses the elder Jedi's face as he looks away, staring out into the empty, white landscape. "Always think about it, Anakin," he says. "Always. The moment you stop thinking about it is the moment that you should start to worry."_

He said those words himself.

_Do you ever stop to wonder…?_

No. Not anymore. He can almost picture his fourteen-year-old self glaring back at him. He blinks, pushing the image away, only to come face to face with those blue-gray eyes again when he looks back down.

This body isn't covered in a drift of snow.

He turns and walks away. Sith don't think about such things.

_Do you ever…_

Worry about it?

About the fact that you don't think anymore?

You don't hesitate.

You don't feel anything.

You don't cry.

You don't scream.

You don't wonder…

He clamps his eyes shut, but even though the world is blocked out, his boots still echo loudly in the corridor and the body is still laying on the floor a ways behind him. He can almost picture the dead man's eyes following his every move.

Do you worry?

_Yes, Obi-wan. Every now and then… I do._

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** Reviews would be wonderful! :)**

**_ I have not abandoned my story "Never Gone" I just haven't been in the right mood for it lately. I will continue to work on it, though, for those who were wondering..._**


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